Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFCRDCDT9HV812X64QE16GE

The bell above the door chimed softly, admitting the morning chill alongside a man in a rain-spotted coat. He leaned on the counter, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and fresh bread. “Still serving the honey lavender scones?” “Just pulled the last batch. They’re for Mrs. Gable’s book club. Though, between us, I think they just want an excuse to gossip.” Her voice was a low hum over the soft clatter of a baking sheet being set to cool. “Ah. Gossip. I suppose that’s the real staple in this town. Not flour.” He traced a finger over a smudge of sugar on the glass case. “Especially after… last night.” A pause stretched, filled only by the distant whir of a mixer. “The police came by. Asked if I’d seen anything unusual after closing.” “And? Had you?” She turned to arrange a tray of pastries, her back to him. “Unusual is a matter of perspective, isn’t it? I saw Mrs. Abernathy’s cat in the alley. I heard the nine o’clock train. And I saw a light on in the old bookstore. Which has been dark for months.” “The bookstore.” His tone was flat, a statement not a question. “The very same. Funny, isn’t it? What people think is hidden in the dark.” She set a scone on a small plate. “It’s on the house. You look like you could use something sweet.”